Beaten
by Capponi
Summary: Two new chapters at once for the long suffering followers..sorry I'm so lazy..but tension mounts and reaches a pinicle of sorts..sexual content.again..heh
1. Awful Discovery

Beaten

Usual Disclaimer applies. (I realise that certain events in this fic are somewhat unbelievable to some but that's what makes it a fic, right? Happy reading!)

Starling felt numb. Her insides were icy with dread and..something she couldn't identify. The phone receiver still rested limply in her hand, lying on her bed. The incessant dial tones buzz stung her raw mind, sounding surreally loud in the deadly quiet of the room. He had been caught.

Only 7 years of freedom and they had him again. From the joyous caw in Crawfords voice minutes earlier as he told her she could tell that the whole bureau was euphoric about their trophy. Crawford had assured that the 'slick bastard ' wouldn't get past them this time, his death was already being planned. The death of the only man, person for that matter, ever to understand her, ever to take the time to empathise with her, was being scheduled like some kind of social occasion. Indeed, she had been told many of the agents were purposefully clearing their diaries to watch. Starling found herself feeling slightly sick and her throat and chest were painfully constricted with what she could only identify as grief.

"No" She thought, the anger in her own mind was slightly frightening. "I won't let them, I owe him that much". But as soon as her face set into a defiant pout it crumpled again.

"What the hell can I do to help him now?" The thought was full of resentment to her lowly position in the job she tried so hard at and the helplessness of how little she could do to help him. These new emotions conjoined and multiplied with the anger and grief of before creating a quite terrifying wall of pure emotion that pushed her to get up and do whatever the hell she could.

Grabbing her car keys and bag, she picked up her .45 then put it down again, she didn't want to go that far unless she really had to. Instead she slipped the heavy leather sap Ardelia kept hidden in the front room in case of intruders. With that done she braced herself and slammed out to her car, a continuous surge of exhilaration washing out the lumps of fear in her system.

Arriving at the place Crawford had let slip to be Lecters holding location until they could take him to his final destination, she was on foot having left her Mustang on the adjacent block. It was nearing 3am, over 8 hours since Dr. Lecter was apprehended, and the hugely formidable bulk of the main bank in Baltimore was completely black except for the top floor where all the windows were harshly illuminated.

After a hectic flight from Venice, where Lecter had been captured and the initial fight he had given resulting in the injury of 7 law enforcement officers would have been unusually taxing for all involved, but it was only him who was not being allowed to rest even if it was going to be one of his last rests before.

Starling broke off, a bubble of painful emotion blossomed in her throat and sank to encase her chest and lungs. Shaking the unpleasant thought away she shook her self mentally and entered the building quietly. She was initially surprised at the lack of guards, the reincarnation of such an infamous killer surely would require top security, especially with this ones habit of escaping such situations with unnatural ease. Ascending two more flights and finding the same situation a feeling of cautious curiosity overcame her. Finally reaching the acquired floor, she carefully peered into the corridor behind the thick steel door.

This floor was the vaults, she could see why they had chosen to keep him here, the cages here were some of the safest in the whole of America, well, she considered, hard to get out of but how hard to get into them? Taking a deep breath she entered the corridor beyond but a she pushed open the door a zinging alarm burst into life. She jumped violently and the sound and nearly left again but the sight of the 2 navy dressed officers running at her stilled her, the anger wall bubbled up again fuelling her next actions.

With a flash and a crack followed by a thunk, two limp figures lay at her feet, her hands trembling with the thrill of it, she shifted their slack forms so they propped the door open. She briefly considered putting ones hand on the others backside as she had seen in The Simpsons only this morning but squashed the childish notion to attend more pressing things. Another flip of the sap killed the alarm half way through a wailing cry so it lost its pitch then fizzled out in a low growl. Another deep breath and she was on her way again, a shiver as she finally saw the vault she presumed Dr Lecter was locked in.

Searching the limp bodies she came upon 4 scan cards, she slid each one through the appropriate slot and the heavy door hissed open. It was then that she realised why there was a considerable lack of security, they had no worry of him escaping in his current state as she could clearly see why and quite frankly she felt quite sick again.


	2. Together Again

Beaten Chapter 2

(Continued..)

Starling entered swiftly, crouched next to Hannibal Lecters still form. "They really got you for running out on them last time didn't they Lecter?" she asked his limp body, more to herself as she took in his appearance.

He was curled into an foetal position, back to her. The room was dark but she could tell the darkening on his skin and clothes were not just shadows. Gingerly she rolled him over so he was on his back, careful not to be too rough as he may well have broken ribs.

"Oh". The sound escaped her in a sigh of genuine pain. His fine-featured face was marked with swellings and cuts, the delicately pale skin marked with dark bruises and streaks of crimson blood. His red lower lip had a deep cut curving round like a lip piercing, there was a particularly darkly blooming bruise tracing his defined jaw line and cheekbone on the left side.

The right side of this beaten face was peppered with smaller bruises, Starling could tell had been inflicted with the butt on a gun and his forehead bore a particularly worrying cut, spanning from the top of his bleeding nose to half way across his pale forehead. His dark hair was clogged with blood and several strands stuck to his bloodied forehead. His eyes were shut and one circled with a near crimson bruise and swelling.

Dragging her eyes from this paining sight she swept her hands gently over his body-there was no broken bones but there was several tender areas where she suspected he'd been bruised severely probably from being kicked while on the ground. His unconscious body jerked slightly as she passed these places. Pushing back his crusted hair a foul anger filled her, this damage had been inflicted by men whose job it was to stop this kind of physical abuse everyday.

Knowing the court was no longer inclined to care about Lecter's wellbeing they had taken advantage of it and punished him as they saw fit. Starling briefly wondered if Jack Crawford had helped. That thought sent a shiver of repulse towards these creatures that had did this and were probably asleep now with a clear conscience, thinking justice had been served.

Trying to clear her mind of such musings until later when they were both safe Clarice checked the corridor outside for any backup but saw none. They didn't think he would be even conscience until tomorrow and also thought that no one would bother to try and help him. Didn't think anyone cared. Well she cared, no human should have to go through this and she wouldn't let him see any more suffering, especially not death. Gently tilting his body, she cupped him in her arms and lifted him clear off the thin mattress he was resting on.

This was not a hard task as he weighed little more than she did. Carefully she carried him out and down. Near the exit she found a stretcher and sheet (they had brought him in drugged with tranquillisers) and slipped him back on it, covering him with the thin sheet then hoping against hope that no one had seen her or would see her she hurriedly pushed him out into the crisp night air and to her car.

AN: Think its any good so far? I'll be adding to this soon coz I like the story even if no one else does! If you have any comments, queries, complaints plz leave them in a review-I need to know if its total crap and I should just abandon it or not! THANK YOU ALL!


	3. Reversed roles

Starling thankfully sank into her squashy armchair. The adrenaline was near subsided and left a clammy trail of exhaustion in its wake, like the path of a snail. But she couldn't rest yet. She had person to see to. This in itself was new to her, she had learned how to look out for herself fine, it comes with being an orphan, but she had never been utterly depended on by another person before. And especially a person who had seemed so self- dependant all their acquaintance.

. As soon as she got in to her darkened duplex, she was faced with another problem, where to put him. She found she was oddly shy to put him in her bed, it seemed like a gross breach of privacy. But she wasn't about to make him go on the sofa; Mapp's bed was out even if its usual occupant was away for a month skiing in the Dolomites. Eventually, Starling was forced to push aside her bashfulness for the need of the doctor who's facial bruising was really starting to bloom. She simply laid him on top of the duvet, seeing no need to cover him, as it would only get in the way of her future administrations.

Which brings us back to the present. Starling pulled herself out of her chair and gave a quick call to Pearsall's office infirming them of her month holiday plan to Europe that would stop him or any agent suspecting her or, god forbid, searching her house. She was given full permission and even advice to stay off longer. She noticed they didn't tell her anything about Lecter's miraculous escape. With a small smile she allowed herself a moment of smug enjoyment at being first and only person to know about Lecters whereabouts for once. Looked like the lower end of the totem pole had swung to the top.

Next came the awkward part. Gathering her limited first aid supplies, Starling went back into her bedroom, tugging closed the blinds and depositing her stuff on the white pillow opposite Lecters head. He had rolled to the side again which suggested severe bruising on his torso causing his skin to be painfully tight. It would make it near impossible to lie comfortably in any position but he seemed to favour this one. Very carefully and a tad regretfully she rolled him back onto his back.

With a damp cloth and infinite care, she cleaned his face of the crusting streaks of blood and smears of dirt. Thankfully, none of the cuts were so deep he needed stitches. She wasn't qualified to do that and she could hardly take him to a hospital. When every cut had been cleaned, checked and tended to she moved to his torso. Gently, she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled back the blood soaked material. She couldn't help a tingling rush of adrenaline and a heated flush over her face as she took in his bared chest.

Trying to shake it away she reached for her surgical scissors and cut away the rest of the material, the shirt was ruined any way. She bit down on her lower lip, frowning as she took in the damage. She found that if she stayed in a professional mood, she could reduce the waves of conflicting emotion that hit her, reduce, not stop. Another 10 minutes with the cloth saw his skin clean but still hideously injured. Luckily no ribs were broken but she suspected some were partially cracked, but these would reset on their own. Along his tender ribcage were many scarlet bruises joined by smaller, purple ones. Nervously kneeling across his thighs Starling slipped a hand under his back to check for further injury and must of hit a sore spot for he arched up towards her. Another wave of that bittersweet emotion sent her scuttling back onto the bed next to him. She decided to let him rest.

AN: Working on lengthening chapters…have to bear with me for a bit as I get into the swing of this tale…titanic thanks to all who reviewed!


	4. Awakenings

Chapter 3..(finally!)  
  
Beaten: Part 3 Awakenings  
  
Hannibal Lecter lies still in the darkened room. Still at least to our eyes. Deep inside, deeper inside than we could ever wish to venture, there is frenzied movements. Deep inside his own mind, past even the walls of his memory palace, Lecter is battling furiously to free himself from the binding black swamp of unconciousness that his assailants had beaten him into. With laboured strokes he was rising up and up, the blackness was thinning and finally, for the first time in over three days, his head broke the surface and he was back.  
  
The only sign of this victory in the cool bed of the harsh world of reality is the virtually unnoticeable change in the rooms light spread as twin maroon capped pools are finally unveiled to absorb their light.  
  
Dr Hannibal Lecter inhales raggedly as he comes to himself fully. He manages to still the incessant swirling of his thoughts enough to think straight and the rush of events before this awakening finally fall back into place. As they go he sees flashes of each memory. The cherry blossom petals dancing in the wind out his office window; the sickening twitch of knowing on Will Graham's face; the white bonnet of a patrol car rushing up fast as he is slammed against it; the nervous face of a young trainee through netting and glass; the final sight of this trainee, being dragged from him, fierce determination set in her jaw line; plush hotel carpet beneath his feet .then the last memory swings into place. Cold metal clipped to his wrists outside the opera house, the gleeful scorn in Krendler's voice as he reads his sentence to him. The needle, the lethal injection, death. So why..  
  
Dr Lecter painfully rises a little so he is propped on his elbows and scans the room. His nose tips upward slightly as he inhales then his eyes widen. A scent enters his nose that he could recognise anywhere. Special Agent Clarice Starling. For once the doctor is more than a little confused. Without complementing his ego he could find reasons she would help him for but to jeopardise the career she still loved so much and go against the morals and rules that had trapped her since childhood, he needed to speak with her. He was intrigued, she often seemed to have that effect on him. No sound from the other parts of the building, but that was to be expected as if the glowing alarm clock was correct, it was 2am.  
  
Slowly he climbed out of the bed and padded slowly around the room to the door, careful not to disturb anything as he went. He paused at the door, he could now hear soft breathing on the other side. His eyes flashed in the darkness as he passed through a bar of moonlight from the window and into the next room.  
  
Clarice Starling lay sleeping on the sofa, moonlight illuminating her from the window in bars of light and shade. Dr Lecter stopped dead and silently observed her, head tilted. The blanket covering her torso had slipped off her legs but was drawn right up to her nose. A slight frown as Lecter noticed and stealthily advanced on the still form. As his fingers curled round the hood of material covering her face he could feel her breath on his hand, regular, hot gusts, then he pulled it down until the moonlight crept onto all of her face. A slight hitch in her breathing and a tiny frown as the air cooled her face, Dr Lecter stopped his administrations and simply kneeled next to her head. A flutter behind her eyelids then a more violent one then slowly her eyes opened. He watched intently as she saw him there, her eyes widened and he instinctively jumped backwards. "Jesus!" she gasped her voice still hoarse from sleep. "Good Morning, Clarice." He said quietly.  
  
Thanks for reading!!Sorry about the huge wait between chapters 2 and 3 ..4's comin' real soon.promise!! 


	5. Slap

Clarice felt the tugging of exhaustion battling with the new rush of adrenaline. The flittering moonlight caused the many darkenings of his pale flesh stand out like red rose petals on a milk bath. There was an awful lot of flesh on show, she couldn't help noticing. In fact she had never seen him so.naked. Dressed in only trousers, she felt awkward around him for the first time since that first fateful visit. The feeling worried her-she felt their relationship moving, slowly as heavy cogs and as sure. Finally she forced an answer past her lips. "You're awake." She whispered, not yet sure of her voice.  
  
  
  
Dr Lecter gently moved her feet and sat facing her along the sofa. "It would appear so, a very strange experience I assure you as I anticipated never waking again." His voice sounded surprisingly fluid for a man that had nearly been beaten into a coma. Tipping his head to the side, he watched her, perhaps taking in their odd setting-she had certainty noticed it. Both scantily clad on her sofa, talking as calmly as a pair of friends. Were they friends? Did Hannibal Lecter need friends? Her increasingly disturbing train of thought was disturbed by Dr Lecter again. "Care to enlighten me on that matter, Agent Starling?" He always seemed to call her by a title when trying to distance himself, or so she thought. Was he finding this meeting as charged as she was? Starling relished the tiny insight-she had been offered so few. "Surely you can work it out." She muttered, head turned from his moon flecked gaze.  
  
He leaned back against the sofa back to take the weight off his battered ribs. "I want to hear it from you. Tell me." The same calm insistence that had thickened his tone since they met for the first time. Maybe it was the anger tiredness brings, maybe it was the lack of a cause such as a young woman's life but whatever caused it, Clarice felt a weight lifted some what. She didn't have to conduct in this verbal battle with this irritatingly knowledgeable man that had plagued her dreams for years. Still not meeting his gaze, she said softly yet powerfully "No." He was still. "What did you say? Look at me Clarice." She turned to him now-eyes but an inch apart. "N.O.no, has it ever crossed your mind that maybe, just maybe I don't want to discuss everything I hold personal in my life with a man I have only been in the company of for what? 4 hours tops?"  
  
For a minute, Starling thought she saw surprise in his eyes-or was it respect? Whatever it may have been it was sucked into the maroon pools of emotionless fireworks. In sheer frustration she leapt from the sofa and kicked her glass of half finished Jack's all over her carpet . She was not even rewarded with a twitch at the smash. "Don't be so childish, Clarice. I expect more of you than that." She slapped his face hard-hard enough to bring a flush to his pale cheeks, hard enough to twist his head. He looked shocked, or as close she was going to get to him shocked. "Expect that, Doctor?!" She screamed. She never felt the sharp thock on her temple and then she saw blackness. 


	6. Never?

Disclaimer: As much as it pains me to admit, I don't own any of Thomas Harris's characters..just lending them okay?  
  
A huge thank-you to all who reviewed recently: Clariz, mimi6, Absolut(how dare she indeed!!), Mizuko, guber, lilian, steph and Give-Me-Your-Coffee amongst others...esp. thanks to Cleve who I have consulted many a time. And Thanks to Lauren who is sitting next to me and will hit me if I don't say it.(One word, dear.crack)  
  
Beaten  
  
Dizzy, room swirling, slight nausea. Clarice came back to the room slowly and painfully, neck stiff and temples throbbing cruelly. Her vision swam back in front of her eyes and the murky mix of moonlit shapes and spaces appeared all around her.  
  
"Careful when you sit up, Clarice. I expect you will have quite a headache."  
  
A voice. Words registering. The heavy weight of reality settled snugly back on her shoulders as she rose to a half kneeling position.  
  
"Bastard."she hissed, anger and pain thick spread on her tone.  
  
"Now, now, Clarice. Did you expect me to remain in such a hysterical state? You might have done yourself some damage."  
  
She slumped forwards again, feeling slightly sick.  
  
"And you wouldn't want that, would you?" She practically dripped sarcasm.  
  
She felt his hands on her own, helping her rise. When she met his eyes they were deadly serious.  
  
"No I don't, Clarice." He whispered.  
  
She was drawn into his eyes again-rendered immobile although he only had a light hold on her wrists. She could feel the warmth of his palms curled around her.  
  
'Just a flick of the wrist and you could hold them properly.'  
  
The thought came unbidden and was banished from her consciousness but her mind was in full revolt.  
  
'Why are you still fighting? Do you want anything good I your life?'  
  
'Go away, please go away.' She muttered wretchedly, trying to pull her wrists free but he held fast, pulling her closer.  
  
"Clarice?" She looked him straight in the eye, suddenly so tired of this battle of wills. She opened her soul to him and she saw the strain in his face as he took it all in.  
  
Then though his eyes, she glimpsed the man through the monster. Something changed then, for both of them. There was a door closing behind them and many opening in front.  
  
He leaned into her then, slowly, holding his face close to hers. She could see his eyes flicking over her face before settling at her eyes.  
  
His breath was hot on her cheek as his head tilted ever so slightly and she dropped her head.  
  
"I.I'm sorry. I can't." She rose to her feet jerkily and stepped back, looking at him still kneeling back on the floor, eyes dark and molten in the poor light.  
  
"I apologise, Clarice. You must be tired after-"  
  
"Don't you dare!" she hissed, eyes flashing.  
  
"Clarice?"  
  
"Don't you dare try and put this down to tiredness. Do you have any idea what I'm going through? Did you-"  
  
"Do you think this is simple for either of us?" His eyes were narrowed now, his body in an offensive position-or was it defensive? He stood quickly. "Do you honestly think this is easy for me? Don't let yourself be blinded by media speculations of some sort of 'psychic' ability I possess. I can only see what is clear to me-what follows my logic."  
  
His eyes softened and he sat back on the sofa. His breathing rattled slightly and he looked pained by the exertion. One hand rubbing his battered chest he continued, softer now.  
  
"You don't follow my logic Clarice-this does not follow my logic but its happening, its real." He looked up at her. "Logic isn't always right." He whispered.  
  
Tentatively she sat beside him-close to him. He turned to her, instead of looking drained by this speech he looked practically humming from it- energised even. She couldn't continue with this. It was either fight it or embrace it.  
  
"I...I.I'm so sorry." She whispered, backing to her bedroom.  
  
"Clarice?" The look in his eyes was nearly the undoing of her. Nearly.  
  
The gaze was finally broken a she turned and left him.  
  
He sat for a few minutes. He felt derailed. He was loosing his strength against the world. He was loosing his foresight. Or was it just Clarice?  
  
He pulled the blanket from the floor and wrapped himself in its artificial embrace.  
  
For once, tomorrow wasn't as certain a sit usually was. He watched the bedroom door until sleep stole him away.  
  
'He pulled the blanket from the floor and wrapped himself in its artificial embrace. '  
  
Oh God.I nearly cried writing it. Will they ever find solace? Review and I'll continue.(Who said bribery was a sin!!*evil grin* 


	7. Dam Breaks

Usual Disclaimer applies.  
  
Thank-you so much for all the reviews!!! Have been prompted to upload this new offering so bribery cant be all bad huh?? LOL  
  
Enjoy!  
  
Beaten Chapter Seven-Dam Break  
  
Clarice Starling stared at the man she had turned down the night before. At Hannibal Lecter curled on her couch, fast asleep.  
  
What was she feeling? Regret? Worry? Or just an age-old weariness of everything?  
  
He looked so ....vulnerable lying there. He was at her mercy.  
  
As the morning light flickered through the blinds, it picked out the hollows of his ribs-she could see the broken one. It looked better. Fixing.  
  
His broken body was fixing as their old relationship was breaking, shattering. It was give up or make it something more. Why did everything involving them have to be so complicated? True, her knowledge on relationships was not extensive but she had never encountered so many inhibitions. Was that a good thing for them, or bad?  
  
She hadn't noticed how thin he was. She could see the hollows between his ribs and on his stomach. God, when had he last eaten? Not with her. How long had it been since either had eaten?  
  
She would offer him something when he woke. Pulling a bottle of spring water out of the fridge she went to sit on the wooden porch where the sun had just started to warm the swinging chair. Stretching out, she let her eyes flicker shut and for the first time in days found herself relaxing.  
  
She wasn't sure how long it had been when a shadow blocked her sun, bringing a chill over her.  
  
"Dr Lecter?" she inquired, eyes still shut.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
She felt an odd thrill at hearing his voice without seeing him.  
  
She opened her eyes and looked at his, dark against the light behind him.  
  
"Should you be out here? You know..in public?" she asked.  
  
He shrugged. "I doubt anyone to be out so early Clarice, and even if I am spotted-I hardly resemble my former image."  
  
It was true. Half dressed in ripped clothes, taught torso peppered with fading abrasions, usually impeccable hair tousled and longer than usual, curls beginning to show behind his ears.  
  
"May we talk?" she asked finally.  
  
Sitting tentatively on the chair he curled his arms around his knees and faced her. "I think we have to, Clarice." He said gently, almost sadly.  
  
They just stared at each other for what seemed an age before either was willing to break the charger silence.  
  
Clarice stared eventually.  
  
"About last night. I...it was just...'  
  
"A little bit hasty? Presumptuous?" He asked softly  
  
She looked into his cryptic eyes.  
  
"Maybe hasty" She whispered.  
  
He tilted his head slightly, lips pursing.  
  
"So my actions were not presumptuous then Clarice? I have not offended you?" A pause. "May I enquire as to why, Clarice?" he asked softly.  
  
"Why I am not offended or why I freaked out last night? She asked, a tad roughly.  
  
"Have they not got similar motives?" He asked  
  
She thought for a while then plunged. "I think it's because I am never offended by what I want, yet cannot indulge myself." A beat. " Not with you." She whispered.  
  
His eyes questioned her when she finally met them.  
  
"I'm scared of what has already happened." She muttered, shoulders slumping. Then she saw the end of this self-torture. In the new softness in his gaze she saw she could lessen her burden. Here goes nothing.  
  
"I'm scared, Hannibal Lecter." She saw the spark in his eyes and was encouraged enough to take his curled hands in her own and pull him a little closer. Adrenaline throbbed in hr blood. And fear. "I'm scared because everything and everyone I have ever loved has hurt me. Has left me."  
  
There it was. Her sole pain had been laid plain in a sentence for the first and last time ever.  
  
His eyes darkened and his pale fingers tightened around hers.  
  
And in that instant she knew she had found the same pain in himself. And in that instant she pulled him to her properly and touched her warm mouth to his dark lips in a promise that he sealed willingly.  
  
When they pulled back finally he sighed gently against her lips.  
  
Eyes searching-blue on maroon.  
  
In his eyes she saw so many intensities swirling and fusing she picked up on the easiest one to be solves. "You're exhausted." She whispered, pulling a tendril of hair behind his ear.  
  
"And filthy." He said smiling slightly.  
  
"You could have had a shower if you'd just asked." She replied, smiling too. Both had lost a great burden and were exhilarated at the now promising future.  
  
Clarice lay on her bed listening to the water run inside the bathroom. He had left her in the wicked sense of frustration.  
  
Frustrated but blissfully happy. More free in herself than she had ever been. Surely this was all a dream, a fantasy. It was too good for her reality. She was Clarice Starling-the worker, the responsible one, the failure.  
  
She had failed in the eyes of everyone. Everyone except the serial killer in her shower.  
  
She found herself laughing, then to her surprise, crying.  
  
Not big heaving sobs, but a flow of fat tears that wouldn't stop yet with each one leaving her eyes she felt a little better.  
  
If she was really morning her old life it must be dead. Dead and gone. Forever.  
  
"Are you alright?" The soft rasp of his voice cut through her confusion- clarified it.  
  
He sat next to her lying form, stroking her hair as she cried.  
  
She found some of Brighams squad clothes for him-just a black T-shirt and trousers but it looked good. Better than good.  
  
He bent and placed another kiss on her lips, longer this time. She rose against his warm mouth and stroked the curve of his shoulder. She felt the wiry muscle of his arms and hands as he pulled her closer still.  
  
And so the two Titans of either side of the law began to fuse into one unstoppable force.  
  
Ardelia Mapp was waiting impatiently by the baggage terminal.  
  
"Come the hell on! I wanna get home sometime today, okay?" She hissed at the trundling conveyer belt. Ardelia was looking forward to seeing Clarice again. She felt a little guilty for leaving her, she would have been alone all this time-unless she had gone Starling crazy and pulled some looker for a night or two.  
  
Ardelia laughed to herself softly. Man, that girl was gonna be a virgin the day she died at this rate. She bet Clarice was still curled in her blankets having a lie in.  
  
Back in Arlington, Clarice was curled in her blankets, indeed.  
  
Hannibal Lecter lay on top of her, moving slowly, softly. Clarice buried her face in his neck making soft little noises.  
  
A purple bag trundled round the corner.  
  
"About God dang time!" Ardelia whooped gaining many a disapproving stare.  
  
"Don't worry, Clarice. The girls are back in town!" She crowed, setting off for a taxi home.  
  
Clarice was a million miles from worrying at the minute  
  
Well there you have it. Tried to capture the final stages with Lecter and Starling with grace but fear have failed miserably....*grimace* Please tell me in all honesty if it's any good. Me hopes you enjoyed.  
  
I may consider going on....if I get some feedback!! ...fruit baskets wouldn't go down a miss either!!  
  
THANKS FOR READING!! 


	8. Kiss from a Rose

Beaten Chapter Eight  
  
Author Note: HELLO AGAIN! I am back again and with me I bring you another chapter of 'Beaten'... all hail me!!  
  
Clarice Starling felt her surroundings around her in fragments seconds before full waking hit her. Thus is the strange feeling of coming out of a deep sleep. As her eyes squinted against the harsh morning light the room seeped to her and as dreams were swiftly separated from dreams she felt her heart give a violent kick.  
  
Turning to her left she saw the bed was empty but sitting at her small computer was Dr Hannibal Lecter seated exactly as he had been once in the asylum musing over his Christ clock patent. The difference was that in the asylum he had been wearing white pyjamas, and at present he was clad in little more that one of the white sheets off her bed wrapped around his lithe hips.  
  
Lecter was bent reading the screen and his shoulder blades caused shadows on his otherwise unblemished pale back. Clarice felt a dizzying rush as the memories of the previous night hit her one by one, like sensual raindrops.  
  
The tastes of his dark slightly rough lips on her own.  
  
Her first sight of him naked lying on her bed.  
  
His brilliant, dark eyes flickering over her and later the burning sparks that spun in them.  
  
The feeling of him trembling in her arms.  
  
He must have felt her gaze on him for he swivelled in the chair to face her. Their eyes met silently and intensely. Each was looking for something deep in the other. Starling searched for any disappointment or egret and found none. This only half satisfied her, she felt a tiny slick of clueless panic that he had not found their encounter as singular as she.  
  
'Good morning, Clarice.' He finally broke the silence. She nodded in kind.  
  
'What are you doing?' She enquired after a beat  
  
'Oh, I'm sorry to invade your privacy but you received a quote' urgent message' in your email.'  
  
Starling sat up slowly. 'What was it?'  
  
Lecter turned to the screen for a second then back to her. 'It seems that your roommate, a Miss Mapp, has put forward the date of her return slightly due to accommodation problems.'  
  
Starling cocked her head and stared at him steadily 'When exactly is Miss Mapp returning then?'  
  
Lecter flicked his head slightly. 'Well...tomorrow'  
  
Starling jolted. 'WHAT?! That's like a week early! What if she comes when you're..'  
  
Lecter stopped her with open palms. 'Worry not, Clarice. I have successfully bought a few more days. I sent her a reply from you explaining everything about your 'specially weekend' with. Mr Brigham. She's ecstatic for you' His lips twitched slightly at this revelation and he stood up and came to her before she could start the stream of indignity that was brewing behind her scowl.  
  
'I know it's a little unorthodox but atleast it has given us \a little more time, Clarice. She is rather hard to get around.  
  
'As true as that is, I will not hear the end of this for weeks, you do realise that?'  
  
He dropped his gaze and sat on the edge of her bed. Finally he looked up at her and his gaze was dead serious. 'You realise the fact we cannot be together. Not yet.'  
  
She nodded steadily keeping his gaze. 'I know that.'  
  
He watched her for a few beats then shuffled closer and gracefully swept his leg over her so he was straddling her through both his sheet and hers. Their faces were only a matter of inches apart.  
  
He placed one hand on her lower back and the other held her chin.  
  
'You're so special, do you realise that Clarice?' He whispered to her before tilting her mouth to his waiting lips.  
  
She pulled away and held his face in her own hands. She flickered her eyes over his beautiful face, dark eyes bright yet languid, loose waves of hair flowing over his ears and resting on his fine European cheekbones.  
  
'Special.' She whispered back, contemplating. 'Thank-you Hannibal.'  
  
He smiled and tilted his mouth again letting her come to him this time. As their lips were exploring, he wriggled his body under her sheet and she lowered his sheet so they could feel each other fully as they rolled under the sheets.  
  
As their breathing quickened, their movements slow and they took their time in exploring each other's bodies. Lips, hands, legs and feet were restless under the cover of the sheet brushing past flesh and grating against the sheet.  
  
Finally, when the need in both of them was utterly desperate Hannibal Lecter rolled onto his back and braced his legs knees bent against the hot mattress. He silently invited Clarice to settle in the crook of his slick thighs and held her tight against his body as their lips found each other again and she stayed low along his fine form as his hips gave a slow thrust upwards.  
  
They both held tight to one another as the intensity increased, hot breath on each others faces they emitted moans and whines nuzzled close to one another's ears. As the long awaited climax hit them simultaneously they pushed closer together and locked gazes as their souls soared.  
  
They lay entwined afterwards in the cooing bed as their breathing returned to normal pace. Forehead to forehead they lay eyes shut just feeling each other and revelling in this forbidden fruit.  
  
Deep inside Clarice Starling the tiniest movements were frantically taking place. So tiny she had no idea anything was going on at all. No idea they had just created another being. 


	9. Tip of the Iceberg

Beaten Chapter Nine Tip of the Iceberg

Authors Note: Greetings from the geeky British teen also known as Capponi!I know it has been absolutely aaaages since I last updated this lil' fic but coursework has swamped my life totally. I hate GCSE's already and I haven't even taken the bastards yet!! Bitch-slaps GCSE's That's better...okay, to the fic we go!! Please tell me wotcha think won't ya?

Clarice sat down shakily on the hard-backed hospital chair and stared hard at the institutional green wall trying desperately to compose herself. The other women in the room looked so content and serene, some leaning into their partner's arms, some flicking idly through the out dated magazines piled haphazardly on the middle table, glossy covers gleaming and curled.

It had taken nearly two months after her first missed period for her to come here- it was like being here made it real and she had wanted it to be a mistake- a blip in her body's functioning so bad she just ignored it. However, two months of increasing irate tiredness, nausea several times every day and the progressively irritating frequent trips to the toilet had pushed her to this cold, medical scented waiting room to put her mind at rest- for better or worse. Last week she had finally relented and bought a home pregnancy kit which had lain under her mattress for two days before she plucked up the courage to try it. It showed one pink dot if she was not pregnant and two if she was. On had come up almost instantly...then so had the second. Clarice Starling was pregnant.

The door to her left with the name 'Dr. Simpson' on the plaque opened inwards and a young woman stuck her head out, consulting a clipboard.

"Clarice Starling?" Starling felt her stomach contract painfully and wondered fleetingly if the tiny baby had felt her fear- but she felt ill again at the reminder she was carrying another life form. She got unsteadily to her feet and walked towards the woman, who smiled warmly as she passed into the room.

Inside the small room Starling sat in a most comfortable chair by the small desk of Dr. Simpson. An older woman was sitting on the other side of the desk and stood as Starling entered.

"Hello Miss Starling, I'm Jane Browne. I'll be your midwife during your pregnancy." Starling shook her proffered hand and sat as Dr. Simpson settled behind her desk consulting a computer screen.

"Okay, Miss Starling, this is your first ante natal appointment I understand?" Starling nodded, silently. "And you definitely want to go through with the pregnancy?" Again a nod. "Alright then, just a few things to discuss and then we can give you an ultrasound and see how old your baby is."

After questions about her diet, weather she smoked sand how much alcohol she consumed and the like, Starling was told to lie on a high bed covered with crinkly paper. The midwife rubbed some cold gel over her stomach and fiddled with a monitor, taking an instrument that resembled a showerhead from it. A very blurry image filled the screen and she rolled the hand-held scanner smoothly over Clarice's stomach watching the monitor carefully.

"Ah..there you go! See here? That's the baby's head, legs are here- see the spine curved there?"

Starling stared in amazement as the fuzzy jumble was explained and took shape as a tiny human form. Her chest felt tight and she felt acutely terrified and fiercely proud at the same time as she saw her child.

"This one is about thirteen weeks old and the spine and head look perfectly healthy which is good news." The midwife smiled at Clarice. Would you like a copy of your scan?

Clarice nodded silently for the third time, but this time she was not frightened- just utterly speechless with amazement. She was not afraid any more. She was not alone.

Much later that night, Clarice Starling sat on the darkened porch of her and Ardelia's duplex letting the biting wind clear her head. She had one hand on her stomach, trying to feel any movement but everything was still. She had gained so much hope yet so many worries with this child. The best piece of hope so far was the small black and white image of her child- healthy and safe. Her biggest worry was the father of her tiny baby, how would Dr. Hannibal Lecter, murderer of twelve, react to the fact he was the father of this tiny creature?

She would have to tell him- she knew she would and hadn't let herself indulge in planning alternatives. How could she tell him though?

Laving the cold wind for the sleepy warmth of the duplex she reached into the bottom of her cupboard and pulled out the stiff envelope. Slipping one of the scan pictures out she walked back to the porch picking up a different, standard mail envelopes from the utility drawer.

She would show her hope to her worry. Which way it tipped the scales, she couldn't be sure. Finding the address he had given her to use any time during five months from his leaving (in a case of great importance) she wrote it carefully on the front of the envelope and slipped the picture inside. No note was needed, she decided. He would know.

So what's the verdict? I know it's not 'action packed' but the scene had to be set. By the way, since I am a teenager and have never been pregnant if any details about Clarices' are wrong please tell me. I have been quizzing my mum for this chapter but I think she's getting a bit concerned as to my interest. Wonder if I'll be getting the 'I hope you feel you can confide in me.." talk soon? Lol

Next chapter Hannibal will find out but his reaction is positive...looks like Clarices hope may be taken away.


	10. Evanescent Hope

Beaten Chapter Ten

Evanescent Hope

Clarice Starling had been on tenterhooks ever since the package containing her hope had been whisked away to Hannibal Lecter and the only future she could desire for her and her child. They had never talked much of childhood, although she realised his cannot have been a happy one for his psyche to be damaged so. What would he think of being a father? Would he answer her or just disappear as he could do so perfectly and completely? Hannibal Lecter, she mused, was such a difficult man to predict but he didn't seem the sort to abandon responsibility that was so clearly his.

She stared idly out the window at the last leaves of Autumn twirling into the foliage strewn garden and behind the deep grey, overcast sky that was tinged white with the threat of snow. Did she really want to have this child? All her life she had never even considered having an intimate relationship with a man never mind conceiving a child- it had seemed too difficult. No former relationship had she felt secure enough in to make such a commitment to, but after a week it had all changed. All her doubts and misconceptions had been erased by his intensely emotive eyes, his dark lips and the intricate dips and curves of his pale body. And behind his physical form was his ever-seeking, ever-questioning mind that probed and challenged her as no one had before. She sighed and stood feeling drowsiness overcoming her- damn pregnancy, she thought muzzily as she slumped onto the bed and into sleep.

A bitter breeze chilled her face as she began to wake and toyed with stray hairs, tickling her eyes and noes. With a groan she rolled over and a cool palm pushed against her mouth, pressure forcing her head back onto the pillow. She felt her heart jump into her throat- someone was above her. Reaching for her gun she was stopped again by another hand.

"Clarice. Calm down." His voice was calm.

"Hannibal? What are you doing here?"

He gave her a measured look. "Why do you think I am here, Clarice? It has come to my attention that you are pregnant. I thought you would want me here to help sort things out."

"But there's plenty of time, why are you here now?" She sat up on the edge of the bed, facing him.

He looked at her again; he looked sad and tired.

"We have another week at the most." He said quietly.

She stared at him. He was a doctor; he knew it takes atleast nine months until the baby is ready to be born. Suddenly it dawned on her what he was saying.

"Abortion." She sounded horrified and he looked at her again with that weary expression.

"Clarice, you have to. This is no world to bring a child into especially the circumstances as to which this child will be born. You know I cannot help you at all. What you have inside you is a permanent link to me and that is not something you want to keep- its dangerous, Clarice. For you and this child."

She just stared at the rumpled duvet, eyes flicking very fast. Why had she ever hoped to think she could have one little thing normally? Why was her whole life so fucked up? God, she hadn't realised how attached to this baby she had become even though she had cursed it in-between vomiting and over every night sleep she missed because of it. Every single person she had loved had been taken from her- and now her only child was going to be killed before ver seeing her face.

"Clarice?" He sat down on the edge of the bed and she moved a little away from him without thinking. He sighed and took her limp hand in his own.

"Clarice, I am sorry but you cannot have ever seen this working? I thought you would have realised the danger this child brings. You think the big men up in the F.B.I aren't going to be suspicious? You have already been questioned about my escape have you not? And now you're pregnant with no partner in sight. You have to see sense. I'm not doing this out of meanness because there is nothing more I want to see than you happy, Clarice."

He tipped her chin with his finger and looked her straight in the eye.

"You cannot keep this child, Clarice." He said firmly, waiting for some recognition, some sort of agreement in her eyes. He saw the brightness that had always shone there and hoped that her intellect would overcome her emotions.

He stood and turned to face her standing.

"Would you like me to stay?"

She looked him in the eyes and he felt her anger burning strong and hot.

"No." She turned and walked to the bathroom, locking the door. It was only after she had heard the porch door shut that she let her tears fall, and fall they did.

The airport throbbed with sound- both the frequent engines of incoming and out going planes and the excited chatter, greetings and farewells of people. One woman walked silent and alone through the din of the high ceiling building to the kiosk by the check-ins.

"One ticket to London." Clarice Staling said, voice strong.

The woman typed into the computer.

"Is that a return, madam?"

Clarice Starling placed one hand on the warm bump forming in her stomach.

Clarice smiled at the woman "One way please." She answered


	11. Loss and Gain

Beaten Chapter Eleven

Loss and Gain

Note: Again I apologies for the slight (hah!) break between chapters but I've had exams and all that jazz so nyah to that now and here's another offering. As always reviews are greatly appreciated and a BIG Thank-You! To all that reviewed my last chapter…you are my driving force! So anyhoo must stop rambling and get on with story..Bon Appetit

Oh and by the way, for those who didn't guess the ending of the last chapter was inspired by Kill Bill(the DVD of which I got for xmas!) when the bride is goin' to Tokyo to whip some crazy 88 ass, booyah!…yeah, Im a hopeless Tarintino fan..

Clarice paced back and forth over the plush, royal blue carpet of the departure lounge, trying in vain to sort the turmoil of half-baked arguments and conflicts raging in her mind. It was bad enough being so bloody hormonally unbalanced without this, she though ruefully, gazing out the large windows that stretched the length of the room overlooking the runways. She knew that she had to get away yet she knew it wouldn't help-not in the long run. She had tried to face the issue head-on and received a great shock-she didn't know if she could do it again. With an audible sigh of frustration she leaned against the cool glass, her zealous breath fogging the thick scratched surface.

The high, glossy tail fin of one of the great 747 planes swung close to the window and Starling could she the large blue British Airways emblem, bright blue in the airport lights. She wondered if that was her plane, her ticket to a new life, a better life for her and her child. Being a mother changed so much, all selfishness is forgotten in the face of that little nothingness deep inside. It had caused Starling to come very close to leaving the FBI, an option she was still considering and go against the ardent wishes of the most dangerous man in the world. Also a man she had wanted to spend the rest of her life with if only she could. But this was all past and the present was still murky-Starling had to keep on her toes if she was to pull this off without anyone getting hurt in every sense of the word.

As she pulled back from the window a sharp pain shot across her abdomen and a fierce panic gripped her, again and again bolts of pain twinged inside her. Oh God, she thought, not when we've got this far, not now, don't you dare. Rushing as fast as she dared over to the main office she caught the attention of the man behind.

"Please sir, do you have any sort of medical staff in the building? I'm about 4 months pregnant and I'm in a considerable amount of pain."

Her voice shook as she spoke- it seemed like an awful long speech to her when time seemed so precious.

Luckily everything from there moved quickly and rather efficiently considering it was a busy airport. She found herself in a small clinic like room with ten minutes until her plane was scheduled to leave as the doctor who had examined her reappeared in the room.

"Well, Miss Starling, luckily nothing is wrong with either you or your child. The pain you felt was caused by the foetus pulling on the placenta, slightly separating it from the uterus wall but this is nothing to worry about although I would recommend you let your midwife know."

Starling nodded, weak with relief. She knew there was no way she could have aborted this baby and slept peacefully, or ever truly get over it. For once she was 100 sure of making the right decision.

"Now the nature of the tests allows me to inform you of your child's gender, should you want to know." She waited for Starlings response, holding a folder tightly shut.

"I…would like to know please" she said softly, one hand rubbing her minimal bump.

Minutes later she was escorted back to the terminal with just five minutes to go. "Hurry Miss or you'll miss your plane!" The young attendant called after her as he rushed back to his post.

As the passengers of the 19:10 to London Gatwick prepared to embark, Dr. Hannibal Lecter entered the main building and unhurriedly, beside his sense of urgency walked over to the enquires desk. He knew Clarice was very emotional, not just due to the pregnancy hormones and didn't want to cause her any hardship, yet if she followed through what she was threatening to do it would endanger all three parties involved but it was her safety he worried about most.

"Excuse me Miss," he said to the young woman behind the computer with all his usual eloquence intact. "I need to find out which flight a Miss Clarice Starling is booked into."

The woman looked up at him, taking in his fine-featured face and blushing slightly, her eyes flicking back to the computer screen quickly.

"I'm afraid I cannot disclose that information without some proof of relation, sir." She said, her voice stronger than her resolve.

Without a flicker, Dr Lecter pulled a crisp A4 sheet of cardboard in a plastic wallet out of his inner pocket.

"No problem, Miss." She said smoothly, giving the blushing young woman a small smile.

She regarded it then started typing fast into her keypad.

"You'll have to hurry if you want to catch her, sir. She is booked onto the 19:10 to London Gatwick."

"Thank-you."

Checking his watch as he scaled the stairs he saw it was 19:08 and hoped the plane had been delayed by even a few minutes.

Arriving in the departure lounge less than a minute later his eyes scanned the large floor to ceiling windows and out to the lit runways. The tail fin of a British Airways plane caught his sight and he watched as it taxied out the dock onto the open runway, the windows all lit like tiny lamps. Walking up the glass he checked his watch, 19:10. Of all the times for a plane to be on time. As his head turned to the departing plane and the departing Clarice Starling sparks span in his eyes as he realised the weight of her action, but then the thought was gone but the sparks were not, they had been turned to real glowing sparks as his eyes took in the sprays of flame bursting from the left engine of the plane.

Frowning he put both hands on the glass like a curious child in a zoo staring at a dangerous animal, knowing it couldn't hurt them - but Dr Lecter was hurting, even though he tried to lock the emotion away. He watched it all though- he saw the left wing buckle in the heat and sparks and the whole smooth body tip and lurch. People around him now were screaming, calling help, calling family, calling but Dr Lecter stood still and silent and watched.

A lasting image of the final explosion was stained on his retinas for several minutes afterwards, a huge spiky cloud of heat, colour and gasoline.

And then everything was very quiet for Dr Lecter although bedlam had broken out.

He turned and calmly sat at one of the many newly unoccupied seats and all was silent inside his mind but it was simply the calm before the storm.

Authors (Second)Note: Yup..left you all at a bit of a cliff hanger..did she get on the plane? Didn't she? If not where the hell is she and will she show herself to a certain doctor before all hell breaks loose? Hmmm hmm hmm…oh well if I am mollified with reviews I may feel up to concluding the mystery…hope you all enjoyed!

Capponi


	12. Retribution

Beaten Chapter Twelve

NOTE: A huge thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter..you give me the will to go on and resist my sadistic urges to leave you hanging! Also a big Hello! To any one reading off Hannibal Studiolo..it's a great forum and I was chuffed to bits with the recognition I received. **hugs to all!**

Retribution

Clarice Starling rushed out of the plush ladies bathroom where she had been gathering herself somewhat, finding herself emotionally unable to fly or make any significant decisions just yet. The fizzing boom of the gasoline-induced explosion had shook the very building and people were streaming around in the sweaty, breathless mingle that always follows any significant destruction.

"What was that?" she quizzed a young woman, standing stock still by the bathroom door.

The woman looked at her, twisting her head round jerkily. "Flight 143 to London..it just..the flames ..Good God.." The woman appeared to be in shock so Starling left her and moved to the huge windows she had stood at not an hour earlier. That was her goddamn plane- she was supposed to be on that strewn pile of smoking wreckage. She was supposed to be dead. That thought chilled her more than anything else yet filled her with a sick sort of hope, or gratitude to the fates, not that she believed in all that nonsense. What mattered was that both she and her baby were safe, unharmed and safe.

"Good God" Starling whispered the other womans sentiments. It seemed the only thing fitting to such a freak escape, such terrible loss for others. Who would have missed her if she had died, she suddenly wondered with a feeling a s despair. Possibly Jack Crawford, if he ever heard. But he had his wife's death still torturing him. No-one at work gave a damn. The only person she could think of, the only person who had ever really shown her love since her father died wanted her child dead then most probably little more to do with her. That had hurt more than Starling had ever let him know. She felt the fragile bond of trust she had developed had been broken without s seeming care. He had hurt her, but she still wanted him, she realised with a pang, she needed him here for her. Would he come for her even after all that had happened? Would he come because of all that had happened? The thoughts buzzed round her aching head like fireflies round a flame and she retired tot the ladies room again, feeling slightly faint.

From afar, the turmoil in the Departures lounge was being observed by the cool, calculating gaze of Misters William and Michael Alexander. Both were physically impressive with blonde ponytails, slim yet well-muscled, strapping bodies and each over six feet. Wild amimal meets entitled prince. They were the chosen ones. Their pockets were still heavy with Mason Vergers money, their ears full of the strict instructions and warnings of the crippled man and their mind full of the pictures of the ones they sought. They had traced a Miss Clarice Starling from her hasty booking records, and were assured a certain Doctor would be here to 'see her of' so to speak. It appeared that one strategically placed C4 explosive inside the left engine of the 19:10 to Gatwick had seen to half their mission but the second they was to bring alive and unharmed. They had told Mason they didn't do 'unharmed' and they had compromised with 'alive and without any grievous internal injury'. Now that they could live by, William thought with a grim smile as he set about completing his mission. God, it was almost too easy. However, the brothers took little pleasure from killing in such a way. Not the actual killing, which bothered them very little, but the brusque, crude manner in which they had been instructed to take the life of Miss Starling. They preferred a much more intimate killing ritual as they believed the ultimate ecstasy could come from the intense pain of death and the last glimmer in the eye of a victim often told them as much.

They had been instructed to kill in such a way so as not to link their other crimes to this one in any way. They were made to understand this was Mason's plan, Mason's revenge and Mason's extensive financial rewards kept it this what even though the brothers loathed to be so confined in the art of murder.

"I see him, William." Michael, the younger of the two hissed in his brothers' ear. Their eyes locked onto the solitary figure all alone by the seats, scattered with magazines and abandoned luggage in the panic.

William laughed, deep and predatory. "This will be too easy, brother. So far below our capability. Let's go hunting."


	13. Brothers Grim

AN: I apologise profusely to all who have been following this tale with their fantastic comments and reviews for my inexcusable laziness when it comes to updating. My GCSE's were the initial stopper then I was hit by that ole' rascal writers block. Was it not for the continued encouragement it may have proved lethal but here I am so yay! As I say, writers block may show in the quality of these chapters (oh yus, I wrote TWO just for you, coz I love you all that much) and if so please tell me via review and I will re-write the craptastical bits and pieces. So without further ado I give you..Beaten… oh and a titanic THANK-YOU to all reviewers and sorry I haven't started with individual replies..next chapter I will be though so ask away anything that's bugging you!

Dr. Lecter needed to be out of the building with its too bright lights and scents of cheap floor cleaner and stale sandwiches. He needed to be alone and quiet to sort this cataclysmic event in his mind, to stop the loose shrapnel of the blow unleashing his inner demons- attack him at his weakest. It was perhaps this state of suppressed mania that prevented the Doctors usually honed senses from picking up on the two men flanking him until they were nearly out of the building, stepping through the airy lobby. Flicking his head to the right, he caught a glance of ash blonde hair and a lean male physique and then they were on him, too close, pressing in on him. The doctor had the strange sensations of being threatened and seduced at the same time; such was the two attackers' calm, confident manner.

"We're going for a little ride, doctor. One wrong move and I'm afraid you may never walk again."

The chill tingle of a high powered electric taser pressed against the bare skin of the doctors' back, up under his shirt, his slim figure clearly showing the soft ridges of his spine- the deadliest shock point.

The doctor fought against his overwhelming sense of inner pain to clear his mind and face the current, rather awkward situation. He saw the rear light of a large black van flash as one of his assailants' pressed an automated key in his palm. No time for any plan of action to formulate itself- the doctors mind still sluggish with raw grief he had yet to come to terms with and before he put up the slightest hint of a struggle he was assisted rather gently into the back of the van, the door closing with a heavy thud, encasing the three in semi darkness. His right foot was taken and a cold length of twine material wrapped and linked to some sort of strap fixed to the van wall- he was rendered quite immobile.

"He's a fine one, William. I almost don't want to give him up." The voice was deep, full of malicious laughter. A soft hand fluttered across the doctor's stomach, rested on his hip and seemed to draw warmth from his body, replacing it with a clammy chill. The doctor was thinking fast- give him up, they said thus they were working for someone else. It didn't take long for Lecter to work out who that individual may be; the same person it always boiled down to, only this time the doctor was not in any position to follow his usual alluding act. He needed something, some event to distract these two composed henchmen.

"Stop it- we have our orders and we have our money. Get in the front."

This one seemed to hold the authority out of the two, the other not quite challenging the order but satisfying himself with a whine.

"We don't take orders, William. We're too good for that, too good for anyone. Why are we running around after this old fanatic anyway?"

"We've been through this, Alex, now be quiet and drive." The older one snapped a growl in the voice.

The engine started with a whine, and then a throaty roar reverberated through the doctor's body as it caught. He thought he heard some metallic clank below the engine noise- perhaps the van would brake down and give him a little more time to focus. The doctors eyes narrowed against the darkness as it came again- it seemed above his level, couldn't be in the engine.

A soft click now and the rear door opened a crack. Dr Lecter turned his head to see if either kidnapper had noticed but they were bickering in hissed tones at the wheel. Could he slip out of the opened door? He tried the binding on his leg and found it held strong- he couldn't afford to gain his captors attention by moving to loosen it. The door widened yet further, but before the growing ray of light could attract either of the arguing men, a figure hopped in- their weight rocking the van very slightly. The door closed almost silently and a scent came to the doctor that could not possibly be. It was the unique and wonderful bouquet of scents that was Clarice Starling. Perhaps it was his mind dealing with the loss- airing his memory of her trace. But it was so real- and he could feel warmth.

"Are they armed?" The doctor felt slightly light headed- it was her, she was here and alive, wonderfully, remarkably, impossibly alive. He managed to quash the surge of sweet raw emotion that sent adrenaline zinging around his body sufficiently to answer.

"One has an electric taser. I am unaware of any other weapons." He whispered back, his voice amazingly steady.

"Have they called anyone? Reported back to any one?"

"Not in my presence, no."

"Right."

He felt her move from his side and edge in the gloom to the two front seats, backing onto the back compartment and blocking much of the light, although as she moved closer, Dr Lecter could see the sun on her hair, picking out the auburn highlights and casting fine shadows on her face and it registered totally and fantastically that she was here and there was still a chance of working to a future.

He saw her raise a small pistol to rest between the headrest and the seat and saw the flicker of muscle bulging slightly as her finger squeezed the trigger and with the smallest of pops, the older man slumped forwards, his head sounding a blast of the horn before falling onto his partners knees. The younger one moved with feline precision and actually had his own handgun pointed at her as she squeezed twice more and inflicted two lethal chest wounds to him. He gaped blindly at her for a split second then slumped forwards, like his partner before him. Then silence.

She turned her head slightly, eyes taking him in whole and he saw a wealth of emotions swimming in the depths of those deep irises, but seeing those features, that face again had such an effect on him he knew for sure that he was little more than a wandering shadow without her. He had never needed anyone in his entire life, and planned quite deliberately never to be in such a compromising position but here he was. And here she was.

"Clarice." Just the name and the barely hidden confused wonder.

"Don't say anything for a few moments; I need to sort some things out here. Did you think I was on that plane? I thought so, yes. Were you here to stop me leaving? Okay. I thought as much, but why? You made your stance on the matter perfectly clear- you are not the sort of man to change so dramatically."

She broke off with a shrug and dropped the gun, wiping her face with her hands.

"What do you want?"

His eyes fell to her swollen stomach then rose to her face.

"To tempt fate a perverse amount and try to live as I wish to in this moment."

He reached to uncoil his foot, still trapped to the wall and felt rather than saw her move next to him. As he freed himself, he turned and their faces were but inches apart.

"Do you wish to live as such just in this moment, or forever?" She asked softly but intensely, her brow furrowed slightly.

"Until the seas run dry and the Jews are converted" He quoted with a small smile. "I have not changed my stance- I have just realised what my stance was all along. I wanted to protect you, and," he patted her stomach gently, resting his palm on the warm skin. Her hand moved to lie on top of his.

"Do you have somewhere we could go? It's not safe to stay here." She asked, suddenly awakening to their predicament.

He nodded and reached for her hand, leading her from the black van into the dying sunlight.

The bodies of the two brothers lay still and stiffening as sun was swallowed by thick clouds and fat drops of rain began to pound on the metal roof of the van in angry percussion. As the rain blew itself into a full scale storm, no-one looked twice at the van sitting in the car park- thinking perhaps the owners were inside waving loved ones off, sheltering from the rain in the coffee lounge but the truth was not many people cared about anything except getting from their cars to the dry sanctuary of the lobby or visa versa. Sot the brothers went unnoticed as their prisoner and killer were hurrying through the brewing storm towards the band of milky light on the Eastern horizon.


	14. Breakdown and Rebuild

As the door thudded shut, the silence of the empty house was crushing in its intensity- the first silence either of the dishevelled parties had experienced in a great deal of time. Neither seemed willing to break it, nor even look at each other. They simply stood in the hall, dripping and panting until Clarice dropped her soaked jacket onto the floor in a sodden heap and upped the stairs three at a time. Hannibal Lecter stayed where he was, face deathly pale in the gloom and eyes fixed on Clarice's path, a crease of concern parting them.

After some time, he shed his wet clothing until he stood in nothing but shirt and trousers and slowly took the stairs in the manner of one with a great weight upon him. Reaching the landing, he followed the damp scent of rain and sweat that had dissolved that of Clarice into its musky tones until he came upon the guest bedroom. Against the bruised sky that lay beyond the large window he saw her framed, head down and arms braced against a dressing table. Her breathing had calmed. He knew it would be foolish to assume she had too. With a deep inhalation, he padded forwards and sat slowly on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed upon her back warily.

"No, this is wrong. I was wrong and you were right all along. I should have listened." Her tone was flat, thick with sorrow. It hurt him to hear her talk as such; his Clarice who had once represented all that was innocent and unmarred by this turbulent society. Now she was yet another of its victims in the veterans hospital of middle age.

"Clarice, I…"

"Why did I ever try and fool myself that I could have a happy ending; that I could live with my child like just another mother, like every other mother in America. To just live and never have to worry over anything more significant than whether organic baby food is really worth that extra dollar or what to wear on parent teacher night."

She was talking to herself more than him, and he dutifully declined comment although this new dead note in her voice was killing him.

"I shouldn't have let it get to this stage," She turned and he noted her hands curved over her now sizable bump in a natural gesture of doting protection that stirred something deep inside the doctor. He moved to stand- he wanted to comfort her, to hold her when she looked so frail and distant but she flinched and he sat again swiftly.

"I love this child. I love her- it's a little girl, did I tell you? …more than life itself, but I can see now that with you there can't ever be a life for either her or us. The danger, the need for constant vigilance, the endless worry, the chance every single day of my daughter's life that she may not survive to see the next, or have to see the rest of her days without her mother." She looked at him for the first time, tears held in her eyes and deep, dark anger replacing her weary misery.

"Or father." She whispered turning her head with a small, unsteady shake in her breathing.

"I can't do this, I couldn't do that. I'm not strong enough. I could not bear to curse this innocent baby with all this… this shit that seems to follow me."

The single curse seemed to snap something inside of her, and her harsh monologue ended in a choked gasp. She sank to the floor and wiped slowly at her eyes with the sleeves of her jumper and he chanced another attempt to move to her. This time she accepted him and did not flinch- he settled a respectful distance from her.

They sat in silence for perhaps five long minutes before she pushed herself shakily to her feet.

"What can I do? What should I do?" He was unsure as to which of them she was addressing. He stood as well but stayed a slight distance again- he was unnerved by this mood she was in- frightened even. He couldn't read her, couldn't predict her in the slightest. He reached out a hand to her shoulder but she shrugged it off irritably.

"Clarice, please…"

With a noise of purest feral fury she turned on him, knocking him off balance so he toppled down onto the bed. Pinning him with surprising strength by his shoulders she shook him, her face almost directly above his- still achingly beautiful an all its anger and despair.

"All I wanted was to live with her, with my child- what was so wrong with that? For God's sake, what!"

Any answer he may have offered was blocked by her hand enclosing the bottom of his face, fingers resting just under his nose and digging in quite severely and she tried to push it away. She moved so her chin was resting on his shoulder, her mouth by his ear.

"Me. I am what is wrong with such a pathetic notion. I, who would see this child inside me killed. I love her, Hannibal, I do."

She broke off and rose her face to look into his eyes, his remarkable eyes that had pierced her soul all those years ago from behind a wall of bars. And she found the strength to tell him.

"But I love you more. And that is my fault, that is why I do not deserve this child."

His cautious struggles stopped abruptly, but her hand stayed over his mouth, her eyes boring into his which were no doubt a mirror to the cocktail of shock, guilt, anger and predominantly- at least in his being, he doubted if eyes were capable of showing such a power- love. The latter shook his mental foundations until the dust of readjustment on a colossal scale coated everything but he could accept it, because it was true, and no less true than before her admission was whispered into his ear.

Her weight was suddenly gone as she rolled off his prone form to sit on the edge of the bed once more. Her back to him, she continued but the anger was gone, at least from her voice.

"Tonight I killed for you and if I ever had to I would do it again a hundred times over, but in making me what I always feared in you, you have pushed us into plane of existence too similar to ever co-ordinate. I hope you can understand this is why I can never see you again. Love is not love if it must cancel another to survive. So goodbye."

She rose, and this time he was quick to follow, grabbing her elbow and swinging her round.

"It doesn't have to be this way, do you not trust that I will take every precaution to ensure our complete concealment and..."

"You could take every precaution five times over and I would still feel like some trapped rat whose survival relies on the decision between an absolute end or to simply cut and run and leave everything behind in a squalid timeframe that you can crush to the back of your mind so many times it eventually leaves you and I can't live like that! I couldn't bear it; I'm just not strong enough!"

She twisted in his grip but he was unrelenting.

"Events like this you cannot simply forget and expect it to all float away, they poison your mind, stain parts that once were innocent and unblemished, eat away at you until you must accept that _yes_, it happened and maybe it wasn't how it should have happened but it did, and for that reason alone you must respect them, Clarice. Please try and trust this, I know, I tried to hide something that pained me so greatly I questioned the merit of living at all but that is no solution, it simply gives it power, gives it precedence over the good and pure memories. I can help you; I promise I will help you. I love you."

She let him move into her, to wrap his arms around her and for a moment felt her resolve weakening so great was the temptation to simply melt into his arms and warmth and let him take all this away. But she couldn't, she owed her daughter that much. One love should never, never cancel another.

She tried to pull away again, going stiff in his embrace but she wouldn't allow her, he whispered words of calming promise into her ear and in that moment, torn between her two and only loves she felt such a monumental surge of anger it scared her, shook her to her core and she was happy to let it take over her weary body.

With an awesome force, she broke his grip and a shove sent him backwards until he landed splay-legged on the arm of a large armchair. On him in a flash she had him by the elbows and felt no resistance, this display of self assured arrogance fed the flaming pit of anger in her belly. Some part of her, some rational part not swamped with this emotional breakdown was telling her this anger was not for him, but for her but she couldn't- didn't want to listen. She wanted some sort of retribution, some balm to ease this great ache deep in her being and this was the only way she could see to get it.

"Why can't you ever leave something unspoilt? Why does simple minded innocence evoke such contempt inside your twisted soul that you relish it being raped of its purity?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Clarice." He snarled, writhing against her weight.

"I am ridiculous. I am utterly and inexcusably ridiculous for ever believing loving you would come without a high price, a devastating price that makes me chose between my daughter or you- the man I love more than any other merit of living and being at all. I need to do this, I need to have this. Please God understand."

Her voice held notes of conflicting hysteria and rational reasoning but before he could answer in any manner he felt her fingers dip to his waist and felt a sharp tug at the band of his trousers.

"Clarice, what…"

"No. Please." she hissed eyes ablaze and held down his restraining hands, moving her hands over his in soft strokes that seemed alien compared to the animal passion unleashed but a moment ago. Her face was rich with desperation mingled with passion and anxiety, her voice breathless but forceful- thick with meaning.

"I'm addicted to this destruction; I'm hooked on the complete and utter desecration of myself. I'm stained in you, and I welcome it every step of the way."

Pulling his head forwards to hers, her mouth sought his lips and quelled the stream of protests that were annulled by the heat between his thighs. The kiss tasted of the fury, love and misery that tethered them together in this world of norms and etiquette and committed both to this act of ownership and devotion- of leaving and finding you can't le go. Working his clothing off his body in jerky, shaking movements, Clarice pulled back to look down on him, sitting astride the wine red chair so similar to his eyes, eyes that stared into hers with a lusty intensity that thrilled her fundamentally.

"You're beautiful." She breathed, moving back to her conquest with a questing mouth and hands harsh with lust, softened with love. She stilled his hands when they teased the zipper on her skirt and straddled both the arm of the chair and his thighs in one fluid motion, remaining fully dressed.

"I need this" She breathed into his ear, as she saw confused resentment flash across his pale but increasingly flushed features. "I need this to be on my terms. I need my anchor."

She pressed her lips to his and he yielded again after several seconds of her doting caresses. She pressed him back so his head rested against the padded back of the chair and his hips were elevated against her own. Her fingers were restless, moving from his dusky nipples down to grip his waist then back again to stoke along his jaw line. Finally she sensed he was growing impatient and standing on the one leg resting on the floor, she sank down again this time taking him inside her, thighs tensing as the merits of their position proved themselves.

His hips bucked gently and a small gasp escaped his flushed lips. Moving forwards so that his mouth was beside her ear, she began to rock gently, having total control over him in this rather awkward position, every lusty catch of breath and soft, whining cries were uttered with his warm breath carrying them to her ear, his sounds of pleasure healing her raw and tattered nerves, this new feeling of giving to receive thrilling and addictive. As his breath began to hiss in gasps across her ear and his soft sounds of pleasure turn to breathless moans, she caught his lips up in a series of short, intense kisses- each having to break apart at frequent intervals as mutual arousal stole each new breath from their lips as they spiralled closer and closer.

She sensed her own physical, as well as emotional climax approaching much sooner than planned but welcomed it, his increasing volume suggesting he was equally as close, and as she fell to his shoulder, teeth sinking into his soft, pale flesh she felt her mind wipe blank- all of the knots and tangles of this ridiculously complicated relationship smoothed out as pure, raw pleasure swept her body. She was barely aware of him following her to his climax, so intense the emotional, as well as physical release.

She went limp as the sheer force of her climax left her weakened and slipped gracefully into the chair, pulling her lover with her until they huddled in the wide, plush chair together, lips capturing one another for a long, slow kiss that seemed to seal the deed and their futures respectively.


End file.
